


Just Passing the Time

by YakuzaDog



Category: Sherlock (TV), TiMER (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Birthday Party, First Meetings, Friendship, Gen, Kid Fic, Kid!Lock, Platonic Soulmates, Soulmates, exchangelock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YakuzaDog/pseuds/YakuzaDog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the young age of nine years old, John Watson isn't sure what to expect when the clock on his wrist tells him he'll meet his soul mate within just a week's time. He definitely isn't expecting to meet his soul mate a week earlier than planned at a birthday party.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aztecwarfareandcrumping](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aztecwarfareandcrumping/gifts).



> Written for the 2014 [exchangelock](http://exchangelock.tumblr.com/) AU exchange on tumblr. This is my fic for [aztecwarfareandcrumping](http://aztecwarfareandcrumping.tumblr.com/), who requested platonic soul mates! I threw in some kid!lock, too; I hope you don't mind.
> 
> This fic was neither beta'd nor britpicked. Please excuse any mistakes on my part.

It wasn’t until around his fourth birthday that John Watson became consciously aware of the little clock on the inside of his wrist. The blinking numbers were embedded into his skin, gradually ticking down like a stopwatch, until they would eventually reach zero. But what would happen when they did?

John asked his parents about the timer on his wrist and they told him that it was a countdown until the moment that he met his soul mate. John didn’t know what a soul mate was, but apparently everyone had one because John had never met another person who didn’t have a timer on their wrist.

When John had asked what a soul mate was, his parents merely smiled and said, “You’ll understand when you’re older.” It wasn’t exactly an answer that John found satisfying, but he was still young and decided not to worry about it too much. Well, for a little while, anyway.

Upon entering his first year of primary school, John found out that the numbers on his timer were a bit more unusual than everyone else’s.

John’s timer was due to hit zero in just a few years; around three, to be exact.

For the majority of the other kids in John’s class, their timers weren’t anywhere close to hitting zero; many of them read over ten years, at least. It seemed that it was a rare occurrence for a person to meet their soul mate so earlier on in their life. Because of this, John drew in a lot of attention from other curious schoolmates who had heard about how short of a timespan his timer read.

Some were even curious that John’s soul mate might be a student within their very own school, but as it turned out, no one knew of another kid whose timer read similar to John’s. After all, whoever John’s soul mate was, their timer would read the exact same amount of time as his did.

As interesting as the circumstances of his timer were, John didn’t really pay too much mind to what was to come. He still didn’t know what he was supposed to expect out of his soul mate. Were they supposed to be _that_ monumental to him? John decided to just wait until the time came and find out.

After his second year of school ended, John and his family had to temporarily move to another city just south of London in order to accommodate his father’s work. The move didn’t really bother John; he didn’t have too many close friends that he reluctantly left behind. John’s third year of school went by languidly; it was relatively boring, for the most part. Before he knew it, John and his family were moving back to London and John’s timer was nearing its culmination.

Now settled back into his once familiar London home, John is nine years old and less than two weeks away from meeting his soul mate. _0010d 19h 33m 54s_ reads his timer near the end of the summer break. After a bit of maths work, it seems that John will be meeting them on his first day back to school.

A subtle air of excitement buzzes through the Watson household. John’s parents hold back tears as they frequently remind John of how happy they are for him. Even his older sister Harry watches John’s timer closely, curious about what her younger brother’s soul mate will be like, her own timer still reading over twenty years.

John, on the other hand, is feeling rather indifferent to the whole thing. It’s impossible for him not to feel at least a little excited at this point, but he still has questions and, even possibly, doubts. His mum and dad never did divulge any new answers to him about what it means to have a soul mate. They just kept talking about how he was still too young to understand and that things would feel natural and just a lot of other vague things that didn’t make any sense. During these final few days, John tries his best to come up with his own answers.

At the moment, he’s standing in the middle of an aisle at Tesco shopping with his mum for school supplies, vacantly staring at two differently coloured spiral notebooks in his hands as a new thought comes to him: Weren’t his parents each other’s soul mate? Did that mean that he would have to get married to his soul mate, too? John scrunches his face at the puzzling thought. Wasn’t he a bit young to get married just yet? Oh god, he wasn’t ready for this type of commitment…

“John!” a voice calls down from the end of the Tesco aisle. “John Watson!” John snaps out of his reverie and looks up towards the familiar voice calling his name.

It’s Mike Stamford, a friend of John’s from his previous years at school.

John smiles and gives an awkward wave with a notebook still in-hand. “Hey, Mike.”

Mike jogs down the aisle and stands next to John. “I didn’t know you were back in London.”

“Yeah, I just got back a while ago.”

Mike grins. “That’s great! So will you be coming back to our same school next week?”

“Yeah, I am,” John says. “It’ll be odd seeing everyone from before again. I miss anything interesting?”

“Eh, you know, it’s the same old faces—and some new ones. But it’ll be good having you back again.” At the end of the shopping aisle, Mike’s mother appears and waves her son over, gesturing for them to leave. “I’ve got to run—but oh! I’m throwing a party this afternoon. It’s my birthday, you see.”

“Oh!  Happy birthday.”

“Thanks! You’re totally free to come, if you’d like. I know it’s a bit last-minute, but if you’ve got nothing else to do…”

John thinks about it. He didn’t; John definitely didn’t have anything do to today (other than sit around watching telly or kicking a football by himself). “Sure thing. I’ll ask my mum.”

“Great! Hope to see you there, John,” Mikes exclaims cheerfully as he runs off towards his mum.

Going to a birthday party didn’t sound like such a bad idea. It’d be loads more fun than wasting his time aimlessly wondering about his soul mate. Besides, what was the harm in getting out of the house to play with some old friends of his? Maybe he’d even meet some new ones.


	2. Chapter 2

A few hours later, John’s mother drives John over to Mike’s party. “I’m not too keen on this whole ‘last minute’ thing here—I’ve got errands to run before it’s too late—but I’m glad that you’re getting a chance to catch up with your friends,” John’s mother says from the driver’s seat.

John hums his agreement as he watches outside of the car window. They were just now entering the familiar neighborhood of his old friend.

Out of habit, John rolls up the end of his jumper sleeve to take a glimpse at his timer.

_0000d 00h 06m 25s_

Wait a minute, does that say—

John’s eyes widen as he gapes at the numbers on his wrist. No, that definitely doesn’t say six days, but rather six _minutes_! What happened? He still had a week left the last time he checked this morning. Why did it change? Was he really about to meet his soul mate at a birthday party?

The car slows to a stop in front of Mike’s house. “All right,” John’s mother says, “I’ll be back around suppertime to pick you up.”

John bites his lip and looks up. “Uh, Mum…”

“What is it, dear? I’ve got to hurry along now before the bank closes.”

John hesitates. Not wanting to upset his mum, he says, “Never mind.” He absentmindedly says goodbye and exits the car.

Slowly walking up the driveway towards Mike’s front door, John keeps his eyes fixed on his wrist as he holds his arm out in front of him. The numbers on his forearm continue to tick down, there now being less than five minutes left.

His soul mate was definitely someone at this party.

Instead of panicking, John steadies himself and rolls down the sleeve of his jumper, covering his timer. There’s no point in worrying now; he is about to meet this mystery person once and for all and maybe, finally, get an idea of what’s so special about this soul mate of his.

John reaches the front door and knocks. Seconds later, Mike opens the door wearing a colourful party hat on his head. “John! You made it!” Mike stands aside and eagerly waves John in through the door.

Upon entering the house, the sounds of children’s laughter echoes through the foyer. Mike herds John down a hallway until they reach the living room.  John’s eyes immediately scour the room littered with balloons, snacks, and party guests. There are about a dozen kids scattered around the room, some sitting on sofas while some sit on the floor playing a board game, all of them chatting animatedly.

“Hey guys!” Mikes calls out to his guests, “Guess who decided to make it! It’s John!”

All faces turn towards John—some familiar, some not—as they greet John loudly in unison. John smiles and waves, making eye contact with as many faces as he can; one of them has to be his soul mate.

Immediately after, the kids turn their focuses back to what they were doing before, leaving John and Mike standing in the room’s threshold.

Huh… well, one of them must have been expecting his arrival here, right? It doesn’t look to John like anyone here really cares too much about having met him just now. Maybe it’s someone else. Perhaps they went to the loo?

“Is this everyone?” John asks Mike.

“Yep. Everyone that I invited is here already.” After a pause, Mike frowns. “Well, except one person. There was a bit of a, er… commotion right before you got here which got a bit out of hand, so mum had to send him upstairs to ‘take a breather’.”

Oh. That must be him. His soul mate must be the boy who got sent upstairs.

John looks down at his wrist again. _0000d 00h 02m 11s_. Two minutes left.

Mike watches as John stares curiously at the numbers ticking on his wrist. Catching a quick glimpse at the time remaining, suddenly the situation all makes sense to him. Mike smirks.

“You know, I think it’s been a while since we sent him up there,” Mike says, a mask of innocence on his face. “Can you go check on him and tell him it’s all right to come down now? He should be in my room.”

John looks up when he hears Mike’s request. Aware that he’s just been asked to go talk to the person who must be none other than his soul mate, John nods. “Yeah. Sure. I can do that,” he replies casually.

“Thanks, mate. We’ll wait for you down here.” Mike smiles and walks back to the rest of the party. _And Godspeed_ , he neglects to say out loud.

Letting out a breathy exhale, John turns around and heads over to the staircase. He climbs the steps and enters the upstairs corridor. There’s a multitude of closed doors before John within the hallway.

It’s a lot quieter here than it was downstairs; John can hear his own heart pounding in his ears with anticipation. He takes gradual steps forward down the hallway, pausing in front of each door he passes as he watches the seconds dwindle down on his timer. At the end of the corridor, John reaches the last door and his timer reads _0000d 00h 00m 12s_.

This is it. The moment that society and even his own parents claimed would be the most important moment in his life is about to happen. John purses his lips, not really knowing what to think.

_Then don’t think_ , his mind supplies.

That was good enough for him. John takes a deep breath, puts his hand on the door knob, and pushes open the door as his the clock on his arm hits all zeros.

John’s eyes immediately lock on a boy on the opposite side of the room standing next to a window. He looks about John’s age, if not a little younger. The boy is staring straight back at John with a rather alarming intensity.

Taking a step into the room, John offers a wary smile. “Uh, hi,” he says awkwardly.

The dark-haired boy narrows his eyes, his gaze flickering over John’s body, studying him. “Show me your wrist,” he demands.

“My wrist?”

The boy rolls his eyes. “Yes, your wrist. Come here and show it to me.”

Deciding not to question any further, John walks across the room to stand next to boy. He holds out his arm, tugging up his sleeve to reveal his expired timer. The boy pauses his meticulous survey of John to look down at his wrist, humming curiously when he sees the array of zeros. John tilts his head to look at the boy’s arm and sees that his timer is identical in appearance.

This is him. _This_ is his soul mate.

John shuffles on his feet, feeling a little awkward under the boy’s silent scrutiny. “I’m John.”

The boy finally makes eye contact with John. “Sherlock.”

John smiles. “Hi, Sherlock. So… we’re soul mates, then?”

“Obviously, seeing as the timer on your wrist clocked out synchronously with mine.”

Synchro—whoa, that was a big word. This guy is pretty smart for his age, John thinks. Not that that was a bad thing or anything; John thinks it’s admirable.

Sherlock continues. “However, I fail to see the importance behind the fact we are soul mates.”

John frowns; he can’t recall ever hearing another person speak about the concept of soul mates without complete reverence. “What makes you say that?” John asks, genuinely interested.

“There’s no logic behind two strangers who’ve never met having some kind of pre-determined emotional bond. The notion is ridiculous and it doesn’t make any sense,” Sherlock asserts with disdain.

He had a point, John considers. But there had to be some truth behind the passion his friends and parents had always expressed to him about soul mates, right? Perhaps it was just too early to assume anything just yet. “Good point. We’ve only just met and we don’t know a thing about each other. How are we supposed to feel bonded already?”

Sherlock motions intently with his hands. “Exactly! No one else seems to question it. Although, you are wrong about us not knowing anything about each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you probably don’t know anything about me, but I know a bit about you.”

John knits his brow. “And what would that be?”

Sherlock inhales deeply. “You were born and raised in London, but the tan below your wrist suggests that you’ve been away for a while somewhere sunnier—East Sussex is my guess, seeing as anywhere else in the country has been in a constant state of overcast for the last three months. The tan and the faded grass stains on your shorts also tell me that you play an outdoor sport—probably football or rugby. Also, I know that you were only outside of London for a year because otherwise why would Mike bother inviting you to his birthday on such short notice if he didn’t already know you from before? I’ve never seen you before at our school, so that tells me you’re a year above me and attended the school previously before you left.”

John gapes at Sherlock, his mouth hanging partly open. Sherlock tensely straightens the hem of his shirt and looks away.

That was… “Amazing!” John exclaims breathlessly. “You got all that just from looking at me?”

Sherlock’s eyebrows raise, surprised to hear the praise. “Yes. But that’s not what people normally say.”

“And what do they say?”

“They call me a freak and send me upstairs for a ‘time out.’”

John frowns. “That doesn’t make you a freak. I think it’s brilliant what you can do.”

“Well, Mike’s friends didn’t think it was brilliant when I said Sally stole her mother’s jewelry and Philip’s pet hamster recently died.”

John barks out a laugh. “Yeah, that’s not exactly the nicest thing to do, but then again, they’re not exactly the nicest kids either.”

Sherlock watches John with a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before, his lip curling in not-quite-a-smile. John smiles back and the two share a moment, mutually acceptant of one another.

“Do you want to head downstairs and play with everyone?” John asks, gesturing his hand towards the door.

“No,” Sherlock says curtly, to which John frowns. “But, I do have another idea!” And suddenly the boy is spinning around to face the window behind him and looking a lot more chipper. “Look out here,” Sherlock says, pointing outside of the window.

John stands next to Sherlock and looks outside the window. It’s Mike’s backyard and just beyond it is the entrance to a deep forest.

“Before I got sent up here, Mike was talking about this old abandoned house that’s a short way inside of the forest,” Sherlock explains excitedly. “He said he’d only ever seen it from the outside—too scared to go look inside himself—and that he heard noises coming from within the interior despite the house being empty for years.”

“Do you think something’s out there?”

“I don’t know,” Sherlock turns and looks at John with a glint in his eye, “which is why I want to go find out.”

 “Wait, seriously? You want to leave the house and go explore an old creepy house in the middle of a forest?” John asks tentatively. “You could get in trouble or even hurt out there.”

Sherlock shrugs. “Well, it’s this or Cluedo,” he says with distinct scorn for the latter.

John scrubs a hand through his hair, looking unsure. “I don’t know, Sherlock…”

“John,” Sherlock says resolutely, “I know this is the kind of thing you’ve been craving to do. I can _see_ it.”

This was a ridiculous idea; dangerous, even. But even with that knowledge in mind, John couldn’t help the way his breath hitched and his pulse quickened at Sherlock’s words to him. Curiosity—or was it excitement?—overwhelming him, John decides to take his own advice from earlier and stops thinking.

“Okay. Let’s go.”

Sherlock grins widely. “Brilliant.”


	3. Chapter 3

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of them to sneak out of the house. Tiptoeing carefully down the staircase, and taking extra caution to not make any noise, Sherlock and John sneak through the downstairs hallway, nimbly slink past the entryway to the crowded living room, and quietly make their exit out through the backdoor in the kitchen. Now outside in Mike’s backyard, John can feel the rewarding buzz of adrenaline in his system. They weren’t supposed to be out here, let alone the ultimate destination in this adventure of theirs, and yet that didn’t waver John one bit.

“Come on, John,” Sherlock calls over his shoulder as he makes his way over to the yard’s outlining wooden fence. John readily follows and eyes the fence blocking their way; looks like they were going to have to jump it.

“Sherlock, do you—“ John starts to ask but falters when he sees that Sherlock’s already got a leg up over the top of the fence and climbing his way over. “Hey! Wait up!”

“Come on, John!” Sherlock reiterates again, this time with more fervor. Getting his other leg over, Sherlock drops down to the other side of the fence with an ‘oof!’ “Let’s go!”

“Okay, okay,” John says as he braces his foot on a protruding plank and pushes himself up the few feet to the top of the wall. With just a little bit of effort, John maneuvers himself over the top of the fence and carefully drops down to ground below. He looks over to Sherlock who’s looking eager to keep moving.

“This way,” he gestures with his hand towards the lot of trees before them. “There’s a path into the forest just over here.” The two walk just a little ways over until they reach an opening in the woodlands with a cleared dirt path. Without any second thoughts, the boys enter the forest.

It’s dark, but rather calming as Sherlock and John make their way through the forest. Little beams of sunlight struggle to pierce through the all-blanketing green above their hands. Birds chirp melodiously in the distance as John’s trainers kick up specks of gravel and crunch over piles of dried leafs.

“So, what year are you in at school?” John asks after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

“I’ll be entering third,” Sherlock replies.

“How come I never saw you during my second year? Wouldn’t you have been there by that point?”

“I was a transfer student. My brother Mycroft wanted to attend some fancy private school to his liking, so Mum and Dad indulged him and had us move to this side of London so that he could attend. Thus, I was transferred, as well. Must have happened the year you left London.”

“That makes sense,” John says. “Was it hard to leave your friends behind?”

Sherlock frowns and casts his eyes to the ground. “I didn’t have any friends to leave behind.”

“Oh.” John bites his lip, feeling a bit bad for asking. “Well, have you made any friends at your new school?”

Sherlock doesn’t answer.

John mentally slaps himself. _Say something right for once, Watson_ , he chastises inwardly. _Let’s try this again_. “Well, _I’d_ like to be your friend.”

Sherlock angles his head and gives John a dubious look.

“I mean, if you want to—be friends, that is,” John adds quickly.

“Hmm.” Sherlock turns his eyes straight ahead again. “Maybe.”

John bites back a smile. Well, that was something, at least.

“Look!” Sherlock’s voice suddenly rises in volume. “There’s the abandoned building!” He points to a tall, dark-looking figure in the distance, just close enough to see with the naked eye. “We’re nearly there.”

Suddenly, an idea hits John. He grins mischievously. “Hey, I’ll race you.”

“Race?”

“Yeah! Come on!” John jogs a few steps ahead of Sherlock, looking over his shoulder, grinning.

Sherlock gapes for a moment before chuckling lightly and bounding into a nimble sprint past John, kicking up dust in his path. John laughs and starts running after him.

There isn’t much room to maneuver in the pathway, but somehow they manage. Sherlock keeps his place in front of John, his thin legs narrowly avoiding rocks and twigs that litter the ground. John holds himself back from going full speed just yet, but he keeps up behind Sherlock for a while before picking up the pace and tapping Sherlock on the shoulder when he reaches his side. Sherlock gasps and looks at a grinning John who proceeds to pass by Sherlock and take the lead.

“Hey!” Sherlock half pants, half laughs.

John giggles and runs for a few paces more before slowing to a stop to catch his breath. Sherlock jogs noisily behind him until he catches up and comes to a halt next to John. He bends and braces his hands on his knees, gasping for air. John may have underestimated just how far away the building was from them. They were a lot closer to it now, that’s for sure, but there was still a minute or two’s walk away.

“Ugh, that was ridiculous,” John says breathlessly.

Sherlock pants and swallows. “Well, it passed the time, didn’t it?”

John throws his head back and giggles soundlessly. It takes just one look at John’s face for Sherlock to start giggling along with him.

After a few moments of recovery, both from the running and the laughing, the two head on down the path once more.

Sherlock’s words from a few minutes ago still linger in John’s head and leave him wondering. ‘It passed the time…’

“I can practically hear you thinking from over here,” Sherlock points out. “What is it?”

John looks over to Sherlock curiously and asks the question he’s wanted the answer to for years. “What do you think it means to be soul mates with someone?”

Sherlock is quiet for so long that John thinks Sherlock didn’t hear him or is ignoring the question, but then he’s speaking in just over a whisper. “Mummy told me that a soul mate is the most important person in your life. That whoever they are, they will be your best friend and always be there for you and never leave your side.”

John’s steps come to a halt. “Oh.” He didn’t know it was something like that. It sounded… really nice. John picks up his steps again and walks by Sherlock’s side.

“The way my parents explained it made it sound like we we’re going to have to be married or something,” John mutters.

Sherlock snorts in amusement and it’s the cutest sound John’s ever heard which causes him to break down into another fit of giggles.

“You’re an idiot, John.” Sherlock says it with such warmth in his voice and in his eyes that John doesn’t take any offense to it.


	4. Chapter 4

Upon finally reaching the old house in the middle of the forest, John and Sherlock both take a moment to take in the building’s vastness. It’s a grand, old, wooden grey thing; probably two stories tall. The shingles on the roof are wasted and torn and the roof itself is probably filled with holes. The charcoal coloured paint on the walls is deteriorated and pealing, only to reveal just-as-dark rotten wood underneath. The entire run-down building is surrounded by a towering metal fence with daunting pointed tips.

“All right,” Sherlock says, his voice tinged with excitement, “let’s get started.” He practically skips towards the skeletal-looking black fence. John shakes his head and merely follows.

Sherlock and John carefully inspect the fence, trying to find a way in. The thin metal bars holding it together are too close together for either of them to squeeze through and they’re sturdy enough that it looks like none of them would break or pop out of the ground. John studies the towering height of the fence and frowns; there was no way they’d be climbing up this fence.

Sherlock, on the other hand, is trying and failing to find a spot to brace his feet to attempt to climb up the bars. “John. I could… use a little… help here…”

“I don’t think this is going to work, Sherlock,” John says. He keeps his eyes moving, looking beyond the fence for an alternative way into the grounds. It’s only then that he spots the gate door on the fence, the next corner over. “What about the metal gate over there?” John suggests, walking around the corner to get a look at it.

Sherlock keeps hopelessly hopping up and down. “Don’t bother. That’d be way too obvious,” Sherlock says, uninterested.

John reaches the gate and gives it a tame kick with the toe of his shoe. There’s a clatter as the lock on the gate loosens and falls pitifully to the ground, its structure rusted beyond all repair. Another push of John’s foot and the gate swings open with a gentle screech.

“Oh,” Sherlock states blandly and furrows his brow. John keeps his hands behind his back, swaying innocently on the balls of his feet, and holds back every urge to grin as Sherlock trudges his way over, a pout _definitely not_ on his face.

“So, what should we be looking for?” John asks once they enter the front yard. He checks the front door, hopeful for some of the same luck to appear as before, but it’s bolted shut. _Obviously_.

Sherlock wanders and examines the contents of an old, dusty wheelbarrow. “Not sure. Mike said he heard noises coming from the inside of the house, like there might be somebody living inside. Obviously there isn’t, but there might—“

It’s at that moment when a loud clattering noise reverberates through the walls of the old house.

Sherlock gasps. “That’s it!” He suddenly dashes forward, heading around towards the back of the house. “Hurry, John!”

“Sherlock, wait!” John yells. Sherlock doesn’t wait, unfortunately, so John quickly runs over and follows down the side of the house where Sherlock went. The younger boy must have put forward all of his sprinting speed, because John couldn’t even see Sherlock anymore he was so far ahead. “Sherlock!”

There’s the distant sound of a door banging open and stomping footsteps; Sherlock must have found a way into the house through the back. John hurries around the corner of the building and sees a door wide open.

John comes to a rest and sighs. As interesting as this nasty old house is, John doesn’t think he’s as excited as Sherlock to go digging through the confines of its questionable interior with this much vigor. But still, there’s no telling what kind of hazardous things could be waiting for Sherlock to find in there, so John can’t just leave him alone. With a shake of his head, John approaches the door and enters the large, rickety house.

And, what do you know, it’s definitely as dirty and decrepit as John expected. It’s no cleaner inside than it was outside. Old, smelly furniture sit in the corners of the room and the hallway. The windows are painted in a thick coat of dirt and grime, casting a dim and brownish light across the walls.  Pretty much everything, including the air, is coated in dirt and dust.

Now the question is: where is Sherlock in all of this mess? What could there possibly be for him to find in this dump of a place anyway? Maybe he went upstairs?

“John!” Sherlock yells from what sounds like the next story up. Well, that answers that question. Something about him sounds off, though…

“Sherlock?” John calls loudly. “Have you found something?”

“John! I need help!” Sherlock hollers, with definite panic in his voice. Oh, god.

“Sherlock! What’s wrong? Where are you?” John responds as he hastily searches the hallway, looking for the staircase. He finds it and takes the steps two at a time.

“John! Help me, please!” Sherlock’s voice is louder now that John’s on the same floor as he is.

Cold panic runs through John’s veins at hearing Sherlock’s desperate cries. John enters the long corridor upstairs and finds a multitude of closed doors before him. The breath catches in his throat at the familiar situation. “Sherlock, where are you?!”

There’s no response from Sherlock. Impulsively, John drags up the hem of his jumper sleeve and glances at his still-expired timer. John groans. Ugh, what was point of even having this clock on his wrist now if it wasn’t going to help him find his soul mate—again!

John swiftly moves forward, approaching every closed door and attempting to open them. Some were locked, causing John to quickly scurry over to the next one, but others were unlocked, which John threw open heavily with his arms, only to see that the rooms were empty of Sherlock.

“Sherlock!” John shouts as he approaches the final door in the hallway. He promptly grabs the doorknob and yanks the door open. Almost immediately, John sees Sherlock backed up into a corner of the room, his limbs pressed hard into the wall, as if hoping his body could meld right through them; he looks absolutely terrified. “Sherlock,” John voices, cautiously taking a step into the room.

Hearing John’s voice, Sherlock’s head pivots to the side to look at him and his body visibly relaxes. “John! Oh, thank god. I need your help! There’s a cat! Please, I need you to get rid of it!”

A… cat? Sherlock was terrified and cowering in the corner over a cat? John is about to open his mouth and make some jiving comment as he walks over towards Sherlock, when suddenly he sees it.  Just behind the table that was blocking John’s view before, stands a large black-furred cat with its back arched, ready to pounce, its sharp nails fully extended, and its teeth aggressively bared, and—okay, yeah, that actually is one horrifying looking cat, John’s not gonna lie. And it’s got its eyes dead-set on Sherlock right now.

“John,” Sherlock pleads. “Can you do something, please?”

“Yeah, yeah. Definitely,” John reassures as he searches the floor for something to help him. “I’ll get you out of there.”

He eventually spots an old shoe and picks it up. John carefully moves towards the corner of the room, the item gripped firmly in his hand. The ferocious cat spots John’s movements and hisses lividly in his direction. John aims his arm and tosses the shoe at the wall next to the cat. The item bounces off the wall and lands noisily next to the cat, scaring it, and causing it to flee towards the door and out of the room.

Sherlock exhales heavily and leans his head back against the wall, all tension leaving his body.

“You all right? Did it hurt you?” John asks, concerned.

Sherlock shakes his head. “No, no… it didn’t. I was just—“ He falters and stops to catch his breath. “That thing you did, that was, um… good.”

John gives Sherlock a light smile. “Not a cat person then, huh?”

 “No. No, not really.” Sherlock huffs out a weary laugh. “I’m more of a dog person, actually.” John laughs. “Thank you,” Sherlock whispers, genuinely grateful.

“Of course, Sherlock. Any time,” John says. “Now, how about we get out of here and back to—“ Before John can finish, a loud shattering of glass echoes from the opposite end of the room. Both Sherlock and John startle at the sound.

“Is it another one?” Sherlock wonders aloud, backing away towards the wall again. “It must have knocked something over.”

“I don’t know, but I’ll go look real quick, okay? You can stay back, if you want.”

Sherlock straightens his posture a bit and steps away from the wall. “No, I’m fine. I can… manage, this time.”

Staying constantly alert, the two boys explore deeper into the room to locate the source of the racket. They peer through boxes and search along shelves. All the while, John keeps on his toes, ready to grab Sherlock and run if they need to. Another feline attack didn’t exactly sound worthwhile, at the moment…

John approaches a table blanketed in a large tablecloth and covered in a variety of stuff. Upon looking at the foot of the table, he notices a pile of broken glass; that must have been whatever shattered a minute ago.  Whatever managed to knock the glass over must be nearby. John crouches to get a better look, when he notices a movement behind the draping table cloth. Curious, he pulls up the cloth and finds their culprit. John giggles breathlessly. “Sherlock. Come here.”

“What? Did you find it?” Sherlock rushes over to John’s side and peers over his shoulder. “Oh.”

Underneath the table cloth, a litter of mewling kittens lay nestled inside a bundle of blankets. It seems that one of the little black fur-balls managed to escape the cocoon of blankets and is now playfully trying to reach the table cloth that John is holding up above its head.

“Well, this explains why that cat tried to claw your face off earlier; you got too close to its babies,” John explains, amused. He carefully reaches out and strokes a finger behind the kitten’s ear.

Sherlock crosses his arms. “How was I supposed to know that I was intruding into a mother cat’s den?”

“I don’t know, genius. You did happen to charge into the house without a moment to think; I don’t know how you could have disturbed them,” John ribs, sarcastic.

Sherlock grumbles and stands up fully, ready to leave, when something tugs on the hem of his trouser leg. He looks down and sees the little rebel kitten playfully latching its claws onto the clothing. “John…” he moans uneasily.

John snorts and busts into a fit of laughter at the sight.

“This isn’t funny, John,” Sherlock groans, anxious to move his leg away from the kitten. “Get it off me... please.”

With tears in his eyes, John finally calms down and gently takes the kitten in his hands. “Okay, okay,” he says, his voice still coated in mirth. He stands up and cradles the little animal in his arms. “What do we do now? I don’t think we can just leave the kittens and their mother to fend for themselves?”

Sherlock sighs. “We could always let Mike know. Perhaps his family wouldn’t mind taking care of them?” He tilts his head, considering. “Mike’s mother did seem a bit lonely. A handful of these small companions would probably cheer her up…” John stares at Sherlock in awe as he listens to his suggestion. Sherlock notices and narrows his eyes. “What?”

John smiles warmly. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

Sherlock splutters and a blush rises to his face.

John just laughs.

~~~

Eventually, the two head back to Mike’s house and regroup with the died-down party. Mike and his mother were relatively worried about the two boys’ sudden disappearance, so they had called up each of their families to let them know. Normally, John would have groaned at the knowledge of the impending punishment that would be presented to him, but for right now, as he sits next to Sherlock in Mike’s living room eating slightly stale birthday cake together, John doesn’t really mind.

After a while, the doorbell rings and Mike’s mother announces that Sherlock’s brother is here to pick him up. Without a word, Sherlock takes John by the hand and tugs him along towards the front door and outside to meet his brother.

“Mycroft! Mycroft!” Sherlock proclaims delightfully. “This is John! John’s my soul mate!”

Sherlock’s teenage brother looks rather shocked to hear the news—or rather, more likely, Sherlock’s jubilant reaction to the whole thing. After a second, he steels himself and smiles politely at John. “Hello, John.”

“Hello,” John greets back. Sherlock is practically bouncing next to him. (Perhaps it was from the sugar?)

“If I had known that you and your soul mate would end up running off into the middle of a potentially dangerous forest together, I would have taken better precautions to dissuade you ahead of time from engaging in such behaviors,” Mycroft chides at his younger brother.

John smiles sheepishly, but Sherlock merely looks proud of himself.

“Dear god,” Mycroft mutters under his breath, “what kind of trouble will you two come up with in life?” He turns around and gestures for Sherlock to follow him.

Sherlock walks over to his brother’s side and turns around to wave goodbye to his soul mate. “I’ll see you at school, John!”

John waves back, never happier before in his life. “See you, Sherlock!”

Whatever adventures awaited them in their future, John was sure that they had the rest of their lives to find out together.


End file.
